


And I Didn't Like the Ending

by woakiees



Category: Ex Machina (2015)
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woakiees/pseuds/woakiees
Summary: "You slide down to the floor after putting his glasses on top of your head, and he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t look at you, but he doesn’t let go."
Relationships: Nathan Bateman/You
Kudos: 5





	And I Didn't Like the Ending

You’re not sure how it’s gotten to this point.

All of the fighting, all of the screaming — it seems to be all you do nowadays. It’s taken over every little aspect of your life, worked its way into every nook and cranny and surfaces in even the most mundane things. The arguments you have in the day even plague your dreams at night.

When you actually get the chance to dream at all, that is. You don’t sleep, you hardly eat. You don’t reach over in the middle of the night in search of a warm, familiar body underneath the sheets.

Most nights he’s not even in bed.

But that’s okay, you think. You’d rather have the bed to yourself. At least he doesn’t have to hear you cry.

You’re crying now, hoping, praying that the exhaustion will settle in so you can just get some fucking sleep. You just need your mind to quit racing, you just need for it to shut up.

How has it gotten to this point?

You’re not sure where you went wrong, you’re not sure what you’ve done to make him hate you so much.

You push that thought away immediately. He doesn’t hate you, you know he doesn’t. If he hated you, he wouldn’t waste his breath on you. He wouldn’t be trying.

God, he’s trying. That much you can admit. You’re watching him work to mend things and you want for it to be enough, why can’t it just be enough?

You’re not even fucking sure what the two of you fight over anymore. It just seems like it’s everything, no matter how small. Even when you’re both fine, all it’ll take is five minutes and one wrong glance and you’ll be at each other’s throats.

He’s trying, though, at least you think he is. He still makes your tea in the mornings, still throws your towel into the dryer while you’re in the shower. He still washes your hair when you don’t feel like doing so and he still passes you one of his shirts at bedtime, even if he sneaks off into a guest room after.

You wonder if that’s where he is now. Part of you likes to think he’s crying too, holding a pillow to his chest just like you are now, wishing that the little things were still enough.

You just want them to be enough.

But of course they’re not, they never will be again. No matter how hard he tries, no matter how long he continues to try and fix things through his little acts of kindness, it’ll never be enough.

It doesn’t fix the problem.

Whatever the fucking problem _is_.

You don’t even know what it is and it fucking sucks because if you knew, maybe then you could _do_ something about it.

The clock on your nightstand reads 3am, and you know it’s not the time to be questioning this again. Even well rested, you just can’t figure it out. Trying to do so exhausted? You won’t get anywhere.

You need a fucking drink. Maybe that will help you sleep.

You push the covers away from your body and fix his t-shirt, straightening it out as you leave the bedroom. The lights in the hallways turn on automatically as you walk, and the floors are warm beneath your feet. You’re thankful for it, thankful that you don’t have to worry about cold toes and dark corners. It’s small, but it’s still a comfort that helps you feel just a little more at ease, just a little bit better.

You almost fail to notice that the lights are already on in the kitchen when you enter, and you stop in your tracks when you do but you don’t see him when you survey the room. You shrug to yourself — must be something wrong with the sensors.

But then your foot kicks something when you round the island and you look down to find Nathan with his back to one of the cabinets, a beer in his hand and his glasses on the floor next to him. He doesn’t seem to notice you, even though you’ve touched him, and you kick him again just to see.

This time it registers. This time, he reaches up and grabs hold of your wrist, his fingers gentle against your skin even as he tugs. He wants you to sit next to him.

And you do. You slide down to the floor after putting his glasses on top of your head, and he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t look at you, but he doesn’t let go. You reach for the bottle in his hands with your free one and take a swig.

You’re almost expecting him to make some smartass remark about it, but he stays quiet.

Another thing you’re thankful for. You don’t have the energy for another fight.

Nathan continues to stay quiet for you don’t know how long, not a word escaping the man who usually loves to hear himself talk as you pass the bottle back and forth.

It’s nice.

You’ve missed just sitting with him, just existing beside him.

It’s still not enough.

And it’s almost like he senses this thought as it runs through your head again, because he shifts until his head is on your shoulder, and then he sighs. You can tell he’s thinking about his words, and you’re thankful for that too. If he’s thinking before he speaks then you probably won’t take offense to whatever it is he has to say.

But he’s quickly getting frustrated and you know that means that he doesn’t know any other way to say what he’s thinking. No matter how hard he tries, he’s still gonna sound like an asshole.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, nudging him gently. “Just say it.”

He does. And you immediately wish he hadn’t.

“You should leave.”

You don’t know what to say. Even if you did, you’re not sure you could make your mouth move. You’re not shocked, it’s something you’d been considering yourself, but it still hurts.

You finally find your voice close to a minute later.

“Is that what you want?”

It’s hardly above a whisper, but he hears it.

“Of course that’s not what I fuckin’ want.” He shakes his head and you can feel his beard through the fabric of his shirt. “But you should.”

You don’t say anything at all this time, you don’t even move, and once Nathan knows he’s not going to get a thing out of you, he presses on.

You wish he wouldn’t.

“I’m an ass.” At least he admits it. “I haven’t made you happy in a long time.”

“It’s not even that.”

He’s quiet this time, waiting for you to continue. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t pressure you into speaking before you’re ready. He’s being so patient and so un-Nathan like it’s almost a little jarring.

But God, you appreciate it. You appreciate being able to have an actual conversation with him for the first time in months.

“I’m happy when we make pancakes together and I’m happy when we go on hikes,” you say quietly, pushing down the lump in your throat, determined to get it out. “I’m happy when you get excited about a breakthrough and run to show me even though I don’t understand a thing about code. You _do_ make me happy, Nate.”

He lifts his head but you can’t look at him, can’t see the little bit of hope you know is swimming in those brown eyes you love so much.

“But you also make me miserable.”

You can feel his shoulders slump, and no sooner than the words leave your mouth is he raising the bottle back to his lips. He finishes it off this time.

“And I know I’m making you miserable too.”

“You’re not-”

You hold up your hand, silently asking for him to let you continue. He does.

“Nathan I snap at you for no reason. You yell about things that I don’t have any control over. We’re both hurting each other and we’re _miserable_.”

He knows you’re right.

“But we still love each other.”

And you know he’s right. You’re always going to love Nathan, no matter how much you yell and scream and fight you’re going to love him until you take your last breath. But-

“That’s not enough,” you mumble, hating the way your chest feels like it’s going to cave in. “That stopped being enough a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense.”

“Nathan-”

“No.” His hand darts out to grip your jaw gently between his fingers, forcing you to look at him finally. Those stupid brown eyes make your heart flutter in your chest. “We love each other. That should be enough.”

You shake your head in his grip. “We can still love each other but that doesn’t mean that we’re being good to each other. Doesn’t mean we’re good _for_ each other. It doesn’t mean we have to like the ending but there _has_ to be one.”

He just blinks at you, ‘cause again, he knows you’re right. He knows it.

And you know that he’s not going to fight you on it. You know Nathan will do anything, whatever you want him to. He always has.

He just needs to hear you say it.

You don’t want to say it.

But you do anyways.

“I should go.”

He wishes you didn’t say it.

He wishes you wouldn’t go.

But just like you predicted, he doesn’t fight you on it. For once, there’s no yelling. There’s no harsh words, no screaming, no throwing things.

There’s only getting up and going to the bedroom. There’s no sleeping, there’s only packing. There’s the offer of changing out of his shirt but he tells you to keep it, he wouldn’t be able to stand the smell of your perfume mixing with his cologne, but he also wouldn’t have the balls to wash it. There aren’t any words, but there’s nothing to say.

There’s a kiss. One last kiss that makes your heart drop into your stomach.

That’s not even it.

It makes your heart leave your chest completely. It drops onto the bedroom floor where it will sit and stay, forever belonging to Nathan.

He doesn’t even say goodbye.

But that’s okay, you think. You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want those to be the last words he ever says to you.

You’d much rather go with the memory of him trying, of him telling you that love should be enough cause at least then it feels like you’re the one giving up, not him.

You wish that loving each other could be enough.

Why can’t it just be enough?

**Author's Note:**

> pls validate me


End file.
